


And the Devil Makes Three

by Crimson1



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Demonic Possession, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 02:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20789207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimson1/pseuds/Crimson1
Summary: Magic is commonplace, siphoned through the Veil from fae, spirits, and demons by almost everyone on earth. Detective Leonard Snart is the highest level anyone can be born to and chose to become a mage hunter, sworn to protect people from themselves and the magic they can unleash on others.But all he really wants is a date.An enemy in the wings conspires against him as he bolsters himself to finally ask out the cute bookstore barista he’s been flirting with for months—Barry Allen, owner of Scarlet’s Corner.Len doesn’t know Barry is an even rarer Level 0—a Dud, with no magic at all.The demon about to be unleashed on them is going to find them to be an even more appealing pair than they find each other.-for September 2019 ColdFlash Week, Day 6, Horror AU-





	And the Devil Makes Three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meowitskatmofo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowitskatmofo/gifts).

> First, mind the dubious consent tag. Len and Barry absolutely want to have sex with each other and enjoy themselves, but the inclusion of the 'demon' is definitely dubious if not closer to non-con, so be aware. 
> 
> Second, you may notice I stole my own old AU idea where Len was a bookshop owner reading to kids dressed as a vampire, only now it's Barry with LOTS of changes. 
> 
> This WILL be returned to, likely in December, as I have tons of editing projects to do, and then before I know it, it will be NaNo. 
> 
> But this is going to be my next big project, I'm already in love...
> 
> Gifted to Meow, because you inspired A LOT of this after your tentacles AU and just general awesome smut and general awesomeness as a person. THANK YOU. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Eobard’s dreams would have been realized by now if it hadn’t been for Snart.

The golden boy of Central City’s mage division, _Detective_ Leonard Snart had a flawless record for catching rogue mages—which had included Eobard far too many times, no matter how often he escaped custody.

But not this time. Not again.

Eobard was Level 2, formidable in his own right but still requiring incantations to cast his spells. Level 3 could cast without speaking. Level 4 didn’t even need their hands. But Eobard might as well have been a common Level 1 and still require the aid of components compared to Snart.

Snart was Level 4, the highest possible rank and extremely rare. Most other mage hunters were only Level 3.

Everyone had their threshold, but while it was possible with enough will and talent to increase one's rank by a single degree, once that limit was reached, no one could ever advance further.

Eobard planned to be the first.

He just needed Snart out of the way.

Tailing the detective would be difficult without being noticed, but Eobard didn’t need much, only a little intel to decide on the optimal place to set his trap.

His experiments had led him to many powerful creatures beyond the Veil. Fae, spirits, the life blood of magic that humans siphoned from when they called upon their powers. But no beings on the other side were as strong as demons, and Eobard had found one worthy of draining Snart dry.

Offering the life force of a Level 4 mage had been more than enough to tempt the demon into agreeing to Eobard’s terms, that once the demon was summoned, Snart’s power and body would be his, and no harm would ever befall Eobard at Snart’s hands again.

Once the demon was done, Snart would be nothing but an empty vessel.

XXXXX

“Playing hooky, are ya?” Constantine winked though the portal view Len had summoned on his dash.

“It’s Saturday,” Len said, turning onto the main drag toward the precinct—though he had a stop planned.

“Right ya are, mate,” continued his friend’s brash English clip.

John Constantine was often disheveled, but today, he looked especially like he'd just woken up despite it being mid-afternoon, his blond hair askew with a yet to be lit cigarette hanging from his lips, and his signature red tie half undone as it hung starkly against his white shirt.

“Word is you’re so behind on paperwork, Captain Grumbly threatened to set your desk on fire.”

Len scowled. That was mostly true, but he doubted Captain _Rory_ would actually set his desk on fire. Not with all the paperwork still sitting there.

Some of it was digital, some actual paper, but very little could be done with a spell, just like magic couldn't be used to write a novel. At least not a good one.

“That’s why I called,” Len said, eyes drifting between the road and the portal. “I need your signed statement from that last Charm case. Your intel is my ace in the hole to close it, or that degenerate might get away with enslaving his wife for all those months.”

“_Ex_-wife.”

“She certainly is now,” Len snorted.

“And they call what _I_ did a crime?” Constantine wrinkled his nose, beginning to search his office. “Throw away the lock and key with that lot.”

“You’re a professional charlatan who scammed thousands of people out of _millions_. Still a crime.”

“Even if it was done with flair?” Constantine made a complicated hand gesture that drew a glowing red pentagram in the air, that then reformed to show a hand flicking Len off.

“Cute.” Len couldn’t help smirking. “Doesn’t change your probation.”

Constantine huffed at the disorganized clutter of his office, lighting his cigarette finally with a flick of his finger and blowing the first puff of smoke over the glowing red ‘fuck you’ to dispel it. “Right-O then. Indentured criminal informant at your service. But you still owe me.” He continued searching.

“You’ll get your check. And another two months off your parole.”

“Such a dear,” Constantine droned, finally giving up and casting a tidying spell. “Where is the bugger…?”

Len paused at a red light to look more closely at his friend. He was a complete mess but a clever mage who always came through for him. He also could have given two shits that Len was Level 4, which was hard to come by. “I’ll almost be sad when you’re no longer my CI.”

“Flatterer,” Constantine said without glancing up.

“I mean it. You could join me long term. The mage division doesn’t care about records as long as you’ve paid your dues.”

Grunting in triumph as one of the floating pieces of paper finally proved to be what he wanted, Constantine blew out another bit of smoke with the cigarette clenched between his teeth. “Partners, you mean? Do you know what they said about me during my primary days? Does not respect authority; does not play well with others. Hasn’t changed, mate.” He winked again, doing another complicated series of hand gestures before thrusting the paper forward—which materialized through Len’s portal to drift harmlessly onto his passenger seat.

“Thanks,” he said shortly, resigned that he was doomed to never have a partner he could stand, but at least at Level 4, he wasn’t required one. “I don’t know about primary school, but you play well with me.”

“We did once or twice, love, but you said we couldn’t ‘play’ anymore.” Constantine grinned, all swagger and innuendo, smoking more casually now as he leaned on his desk, completely without shame or embarrassment.

Len wished he could be like that, especially as he pulled into a parking spot at his current destination and felt his heartrate pick up.

Usually, when it came to flirting, he started off well, charming and witty, but his finish sucked, which was why he ended up with so many one-night stands. His closer often devolved to "So... wanna fuck?" and long-term relationships were not cultivated from that tactic.

Constantine case and point, though he’d been the one to say “Wanna fuck?” first.

“Not what I meant,” Len said. He’d only caved because he got so little interaction with people outside of throwing them in jail, least of all _physical_ interaction. He’d needed touch from someone, even if it had been a one-time thing—well, two, maybe three—but he and Constantine were much better as friends.

“Why aren’t you at the station yet?” Constantine eyed him knowingly.

“On my way. Just making a pitstop.”

“Mmm, bit of a bookstore booty call, darling?”

“Don’t know what you mean,” Len lied, glancing up through his windshield at the corner shop in front of him—Scarlet’s Corner, a bookstore and coffee shop in one. He'd been going there for months, ever since he made a casual drop-in for coffee and a snack and met the man behind the café counter. “I need a pick-me-up, and they make my favorite drink.”

“_They_, meaning your doe-eyed barista with the tight tushie?”

Len winced, narrowing his eyes back on Constantine. “He’s the owner. He just also happens to be the barista.” _And_ had a nice tushie.

“There’s a lovely café a block closer to the station, ya know.”

“Anything _worthwhile_ to add before I hang up?”

“Only that it is technically illegal to portal chat and drive.”

“I’m parked.” And although he hadn’t been for most of this conversation, Len’s passive perception was so attuned, he could have driven blindfolded without getting into an accident.

“Well, love, if you ever want a pick-me-up from _me_ again, you’re more than welcome to it.”

“Goodbye, John,” Len said and dispelled the portal with a thought, though he'd swear he could still hear Constantine chuckling.

Only the most complicated of spells required Len’s concentration. Magic had always come second-nature to him, even in life-threatening situations.

If only dating in his forties was that easy.

Before getting out of the car, he reached into the glovebox for his emergency stash of peanut M&Ms and downed a handful for the sugar rush. It was Len’s one addiction, but better than booze or drugs, he figured. His waistline still protested on occasion.

Stepping out into the parking lot, Len felt an immediate press of power like someone watching him. He looked around, wordlessly sending out a pulse of detection magic for anything malicious.

A man across the street lit up as he was shouting into his phone, probably cursing the person on the other end, but not with anything worthy of police attention. Len must be imagining things, preoccupied with seeing his _Scarlet_ and fearing he'd chicken out again.

Scarlet.

Barry.

Barry Allen, who'd inherited Scarlet’s Corner from his mother. She was a redhead, Len had heard, but he still insisted on calling Barry ‘Scarlet’, which made him blush the prettiest color to fit the nickname.

Len was finally going to ask him out, even if he was certain Barry would turn him down.

No one wanted to date a mage hunter. People always became self-conscious casting even the most modest of spells around him. It wasn’t illegal to do magic in public, as long as the person was licensed and the spell wasn’t anything disruptive or dangerous, but Len had never once seen Barry cast a spell in front of him. He must be self-conscious too.

Len still had to try, or he'd go crazy thinking of what-ifs. His work was dangerous with terrible hours and far too many enemies made. But it was also _lonely_, and Barry was the first person who’d caught Len’s attention in years. 

Bolstering himself to enter the shop, he was immediately struck by the aura of the place. Everyone inside thrummed with a faint glow of pleasantness and ease like a warm haze of purple that simply didn’t exist _en masse_ anywhere else—not in this city.

Considering it was Saturday afternoon and Len had timed his visit for exactly 2:30 p.m., it didn’t take long for him to spot the source.

To the right of the entrance, parents stood in a wide circle around the book area where their children sat at huddled attention, in turn surrounding a handsome young man reading to them.

Len smiled as soon as he saw Barry on the tiny stool that couldn’t accommodate most adults, let alone those miles long legs. But that wasn't what made Len nearly lose himself to laughter.

Barry was tall, lean, almost elfish in the angles of his face and his wide smile and mischievous green eyes. He was brunette, but Len could see hints of auburn from his redheaded mother and freckles along his cheeks when the light hit him just right. He also had a lovely fashion sense.

Usually. 

Today, he was dressed like a vampire.

XXXXX

Barry finished the last sentence of the chapter to riveted expressions from the children, a few with worried, tearful faces, wondering at the fate of the main character—yet with sympathy for the villain too, just as he’d hoped.

“And if you’d like to find out what happens next,” Barry closed the paperback with a flourish, “you’ll have to convince your parents to support your local bookshop.”

Several kids groaned and whined, while most of the parents laughed. _The Vampire Who Came For Christmas_ was hardly a title to break the bank, though these days it was out of print, and Barry only had so many used copies. The parents couldn’t be too upset with him though when he’d distracted their children for half an hour and increased their interest in reading.

It also helped that Barry was dressed in a snazzy medieval outfit with plastic fangs to set the scene.

_Nice_ plastic fangs, not the dollar store kind, or he wouldn’t have gotten past the first few pages without drooling.

“Barry,” Caitlin came over with a clip of her heels as the children began to disperse, wearing a prim dress in contrast to Barry’s costume, “it isn’t Christmas or Halloween. Why _that_ book? Just an excuse to play dress up?”

“No. There was good reason!” he defended. “A little girl purchased a copy recently and could not stop telling me how much she enjoyed it. I like spreading the excitement!”

“_And_ the dress-up,” Cisco said, another contrast as he breezed past wearing a graphic T-shirt with a Baphomet pentagram and Baphomet was wearing a bowtie. He couldn’t offend too many people with it, since almost no one worshiped demons anymore or other creatures of the Veil.

“Well I do look good in red!” Barry called after him with a flick of his cravat.

Caitlin snickered.

The rest of Barry’s costume was black, even with a little brocade and some gold shimmer, but the red was a nice accent and went well with the red-tiled flooring of Scarlet’s Corner.

Once his mother’s pride and joy, the shop had been passed to Barry when his parents retired and moved to Metropolis. It focused on local authors and rare or out-of-print books, especially on the occult, with a section for gifts and a café in the back—a little bit of everything in a compact package. Barry loved it, and he loved running it with his two best friends even more.

Cisco handled the gifts, Caitlin the books—though Barry always read for Children’s Corner on Saturdays—and Barry manned the coffee shop. They had a few additional workers to share the load, but for the most part, the place was theirs.

“Don’t look now, but your favorite customer just walked in.”

Caitlin’s warning unleashed a flurry of angry butterflies in Barry's stomach, as he turned to prove that yes, the gorgeous detective who’d been coming in for months was there. Sometimes he came in for a book, sometimes a gift, but always for coffee and a treat, taking time to chat with Barry every time. Caitlin and Cisco kept telling him to ask the guy out, but Barry wasn’t sure.

He was a _mage hunter_. Only the most attuned and gifted magic users could join that part of the police force, bringing rogue mages to justice when they practiced unlawful spells or used magic against other people. It was dangerous work.

And seriously sexy.

At least to Barry, who was a complete dork about magic. He'd never understood why others avoided mage hunters. Even now, anyone who noticed the pentagram-shaped badge hanging from the detective’s neck gave him a wide berth or ushered their children the other direction.

“_Hey_,” Caitlin snapped, drawing Barry’s attention as a din of noise began to build beside a nearby customer.

The woman appeared to have cast a listening spell, because there was a series of growing voices overlapping like she’d tapped into a super-powered loudspeaker.

“Do you mind?” Caitlin bit out, stalking toward the woman as her usually brunette hair turned platinum, her eyes glowing an intense blue, as mist came from her breath and her skin took on an icy sheen.

“I lost my _son_,” the woman snapped back.

“So, _look_ for him. No intrusive spells in the shop. It’s rude.”

Frost, now in control of Caitlin, dispelled the listening magic with a wave of her hand, squashing the noise in an instant and causing the woman to back up a step.

Cisco was Level 1 like most people and especially good with teleportation spells, which made stocking the shop easier. Caitlin was technically Level 2, but her situation was special.

When she was young and her affinity for magic first manifested, she did what many young kids did, excited to test out her powers—and got in over her head. Starting with simple spells and finding herself quite proficient, she hadn’t wanted to stop and tried harder and harder spells until her will could no longer contain the influx, and she made a tear in the Veil.

Frost is what came through, a winter fae. She latched onto Caitlin and refused to leave, but also didn’t drain Caitlin's energy like most Veil-kind might have. She liked Caitlin and formed a pact.

Caitlin’s parents hadn’t been thrilled, since it meant she’d have to have a special kind of license her entire life that required her to check in with magical law enforcement once a month. Bonded pairs were unique, especially ones that didn’t culminate in the person becoming something the mage hunters would have to take out.

“Sorry.” Caitlin took back over with an apologetic smile. “She has to be strict about rules, you understand. I’ll help you find your son.” Most regulars knew to mind their manners when Frost surfaced. The woman wasn’t a regular—Barry knew all the regulars—but she let herself be carted away with a mute sort of awe.

Speaking of regulars…

Caitlin reminded Barry of the detective with a hinting eyebrow raise as she passed him—and he was looking right at Barry!

Detective Leonard Snart—“Call me Len”—was just so gorgeous. He was tall and strong with chiseled features, a crooked, come-hither smirk, and disarming blue eyes that defined the term ‘bedroom’. His dark, closely shorn hair with faint hints of silver only better displayed how perfect his face was, and the most debaucherous thought crossed Barry’s mind as he thought about how much he wanted to sit on it.

It took only a nod from Len toward the café counter, and Barry bobbled his head pathetically, bee-lining over to meet him. He shooed away the extra cashier, completely forgetting that he was still in his vampire costume until he had to whoosh his cape out of his way.

He must look so ridiculous.

“Were you reading _The Vampire Who Came For Christmas_? I loved that book as a kid,” Len said, claiming a counter stool. He should have been off-putting as someone so powerful and important, but he was just so fascinating and easy to talk to. And a huge dork about magic, just like Barry.

Of course, Len was a dork about magic because he was Level 4 and amazing.

Barry was a dork about magic because he was a Dud_…_ with no idea what wielding magic felt like.

Duds made up less than 1% of the population, Level 0 with no affinity at all, making Barry even rarer than Len and infinitely more boring. Being a Dud had gotten him teased mercilessly in school and pitied as an adult. He hated to think of when Len found out—which he hadn't.

Yet.

Barry couldn’t even cast a spell to heat his coffee if it got cold. He was lucky so many people liked the kitsch of homemade things, food and drinks made by hand with no magical help, or he would have gone out of business years ago.

“You really get into your work, huh?” a passerby said with a not-so-friendly sneer, arms full of books as he followed what Barry took for his girlfriend or sister who’d dragged him there.

“It’s for the _kids_,” Len growled with a bite that made Barry prickle with goosebumps and electricity like a storm passing overhead.

Though that may have been because of the actual electricity sparking from Len’s fingertips that he drummed on the countertop, rotating slightly to show off his badge.

The passerby hurried on, and Len turned back to Barry with a smile that made his knees weak.

“Besides, you need to get into character, so you can really sink your _teeth_ into the role.”

Barry choked out a laugh. Oh, Len was such a beautiful, wonderful dork. “I’d hate to be a pain in the _neck_,” he played along.

“Or too _vein_, though I must say, Scarlet,” Len always made him shiver when he said that nickname with his sultry drawl, “you make fangs look cool again.”

“There was a time they weren’t cool?” Barry realized what he’d said, and he and Len both answered, “_Twilight_.”

“Still a long road to recover from that,” Len snickered.

They laughed together but soon drifted into an awkward silence. Barry should speak next. It was his turn, right? That’s how this worked? How did normal people _do_ this when every viable thought dropped right out of his head around Len like bricks with audible thuds?

“At least vampires aren’t real!” he blurted.

Len stared at him blankly. “You think they’re not real?”

“They _are_?!”

And then he laughed again. “Technically, all Veil-kind are vampires, just for energy, not blood.”

“R-right. You tricked me.”

“Had to see if I could turn you scarlet, _Scarlet_.”

Barry felt his cheeks grow even hotter. “S-something to drink?” he glomped onto a safer topic.

“My usual, please. You know what I like.”

Barry shivered again. “Iced?”

“Hot.”

And _again_. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious beneath his cape. “One chocolate-coconut mocha with almond milk coming right up! Hot…” he added more slowly, trying to hold eye contact, to convey even slightly his interest and gauge Len’s in return.

Barry just couldn’t be sure if Len felt anything for him or if he was just being nice and liked bonding with a fellow dork. That didn’t mean he wanted to bend Barry over the café counter.

Though that would be nice…

“Thought of a new one today.”

“Huh?” Barry glanced at Len over his shoulder as he started his drink.

“Stump the band.”

“Oh! Hit me.” Barry loved it when Len quizzed him on magical facts. He probably could have taught a collage course without a textbook—if they allowed Duds to teach about magic.

“How many demon archetypes are in the Veil?”

“That’s easy. Five. Desire, Hunger, Greed, Rage, and Fear.”

“Nope.”

“What?” Barry whirled his head again. “There are too!”

“There’s a sixth archetype not everyone knows about.”

That made Barry pause completely, staring over his shoulder in earnest. “What is it?”

“Dominance,” Len smiled, “said to embody all five and ten times as powerful as just one. There aren’t any credible records of an _actual_ example, but enough whispers say it might be true.”

“Might doesn’t count.” Barry pouted.

“But it’s so fun to make you flustered.”

Barry quickly looked away again with a deeper blush.

“Any new rare book finds?”

“Um… not occult, though I did get this amazing illustrated copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ recently_._ I don’t think I can part with it.”

“How do you keep this place afloat when you always hoard your best books?”

“Magic.” Barry grinned to himself. Then blanched. “N-not really! That’s just what my mother used to say.”

“I didn't mean to make you nervous. Or flash my badge before. I’m sorry.”

Barry scrunched his brow at Len. “I’m not nervous.” Not about _that_. 

Len looked slightly crestfallen, but eventually said, “Your namesake, huh? Your mom? _Scarlet_ the first?”

“I’m not really—”

“I know, but there’s a little red in your hair, and I like calling you Scarlet.”

“I like you calling me that too,” Barry said quietly. “Only you, though! Cisco tried the other day, and nope. Not happening.”

“Only me, huh?” Len said with a husk to his voice.

Barry’s face was absolutely on fire. He had to get a hold of himself before he gave Len his drink. “W-would you like a treat? For your coffee! A pastry, I mean!”

“Cinnamon scone?”

“For here?”

“Yes, but the coffee to-go like you’re making it is perfect. You know how slow I can be.”

Barry would love to find out what other things Len might be _slow_ at.

His need to get laid was seriously messing with his brain power.

But how was he supposed to go from awkward kind-of flirting to actually asking Len out? He knew the answer was to just do it and quit stalling, but if he made a fool of himself…

Well, could he really make more of a fool of himself, he thought, tonguing the fangs in his mouth?

The silence was a little less tense as Barry finished the drink and placed a cinnamon scone on a plate in front of Len. He passed the items to him across the counter, not immediately pulling his hands away, so that when Len reached for them, their fingers brushed and there was a light shock from Len’s leftover lightning. Barry trembled, feeling his heart stutter.

“Do you—"

“Barry, I—"

The moment as their eyes met and neither of them said anything else made Barry feel like he was vibrating.

Or was that Len?

Or his _phone_, they both realized, as Len looked down at his jacket and pulled it from his pocket.

“Sorry,” he said, checking his texts, but then the phone leapt from his hands to land on the counter completely against his control.

He was being portal-hacked right before Barry’s eyes, something he couldn’t believe anyone would dare try on a mage hunter. Someone who had Len's number was using the prank to force a text message or call to visibly display like using a portal spell.

In this case a string of eggplant and heart emojis floated up from Len’s phone, followed by the sender’s avatar—a handsome, roguish looking man with blond hair—and the final message in dancing text:

_OFFERS STILL OPEN, DARLING_

Len lashed out so quickly to dispel the message, he sent one of the eggplants flying at Barry’s face, which made Barry feel like he was going to throw up.

Because that was either Len’s boyfriend or a hookup, and neither gave Barry any chance of having Len to himself. That guy had looked way cooler than Barry and obviously wasn’t a lowly Level 0.

“Playful, um…beau of yours?” Barry stared up with a grimace at the eggplant still taunting him.

“_No_,” Len said loud enough that a few shoppers turned to look, who of course all noticed the remaining eggplant. It had started out the size of a quarter but seemed to be growing. “He’s just a jerk. A _friend_, but an asshole. He’s teasing me, we’re not together. Can you… get that please?”

He meant the eggplant, steadily increasing in size above Barry's head, which brought Barry's short-lived relief to an end with a new kind of dread.

“Oh…uhh…um…”

“Just dispel it.”

“I…” Barry clenched his eyes shut, “can’t.”

There was silence, awful and stifling. When Barry opened his eyes, he saw Len nod at the eggplant, causing it to pop out of existence.

Barry wished he could pop out of existence, because Len was frowning, thinking, and then his eyes widened as he came to the obvious conclusion that Barry wasn’t like everyone else but distinctly _lacking_.

“Mr. Barry?”

He peered over the counter where one of the regulars from Children’s Corner was clutching a book and some cash. Smiling, he moved out from around the café to crouch in front of her, glad for the distraction. “Yes, Eleanor?”

“I only got three dollars and fifty cents, but the vampire book is six. Can I bring you the rest later?”

Eleanor’s parents insisted she earn and pay for her own books, trying to teach her patience and restraint, though they gave her fifty cents here and there for easy things to give her a sense of accomplishment. Barry could see them in the distance, watching closely.

“You most certainly can. We’ll write an IOU.”

“A what?”

Barry pulled a pen and paper from his pocket, turning to write on the empty stool beside Len so Eleanor could see. “I,” he wrote and pointed at her, “O,” he tapped the money in her hands, “U,” he pointed at himself. “And we’ll write the amount you still owe me so we both remember. What is six minus three-fifty?”

“Um…two-fifty!”

“Good girl.” He wrote that down on the paper along with Eleanor’s name, and handed it to her. “You go give all that to Miss Caitlin and say I said it was okay.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barry!” Eleanor bounced on her feet before dashing away. Her parents shot him a sly look, but he simply shrugged.

Then he noticed Len smirking at him, right there above where Barry was still crouching.

“What?” He stood quickly, realizing how close they were.

“Nothing. You’re really good with kids.”

“Easy to be good with them when you can give them back to their parents.”

Len chuckled, picking a little at his scone, which allowed Barry to slip back behind the counter, but the elephant in the room remained, and one of them had to comment on it.

“You’re…”

“A Dud.”

“I never liked that term.”

“It’s true though.” Barry shrugged. “Got the disability plates to prove it.”

“They give disability to Level 0s?” Len sounded honestly offended, which Barry appreciated on principle, but in the outside world, sometimes he needed that classification.

“When you're in public where other people are casually using magic all the time, everywhere you look, and _you_ can't, it's easy to get forgotten or left behind.” His parents never had, but they were both Level 1.

Len was Level _4_.

“You’re lucky,” he said, startling Barry to look at him.

“Lucky? I’m a Dud. _You_ can do anything.”

“And I’m vulnerable to everything. The higher the mage level, the more run-ins a person has with, well, someone like _me_. Absolute power.” He smirked.

“Maybe for some mages, even other Level 4s, but you’re not corruptible.”

“I have my moments.”

Barry's heart stuttered again as they seemed to gravitate closer across the counter. “So… none of your cases ever deal with Duds?”

“Duds can’t summon, can’t pierce the Veil at all, and non-magical crimes are handled by other divisions. If I do deal with any, they’re usually the victims.”

“See,” Barry offered a wry smile, “not always lucky.”

“Feeling lucky today?” Len asked, making Barry's eyes pop wide and his mouth go dry. “Wow, that must have sounded like the worst line.”

“Was it?” Barry squeaked. “A line? Like, are you asking me out? Coz I could go for some luck,” he rushed on before Len could change his mind.

Then something amazing happened: Len brightened and reached for Barry’s hand—

Only for his phone on the counter to start vibrating again.

It wasn’t a portal-hack this time, but when Len looked at the sender, his face went serious. “I have to go. But I _was_ asking.” He looked up at Barry with honest remorse. “Rain check?”

“To _ask_?”

“Tonight, before you close, I'll come back before those doors lock and ask you properly. How’s that?”

The eggplant must have messed with Barry’s brain when it popped, but if he was a vegetable right now—and even he had to admit that was an awful pun—he didn’t want to wake up. “Okay.”

“And it will be highly appreciated if, when I ask, you say yes.” Len smiled wider, getting up from the stool to pocket his phone and grab his coffee and scone to go. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

No matter how the rest of the day went, Barry thought, watching Len stroll out of the shop, pausing briefly to smile back at him from the entrance, nothing could ruin the way this felt.

XXXXX

Eobard had everything he needed.

Snart was distracted, by a very specific _someone_, and Eobard could use that.

The young man, Barry, was distracted too, so that when Eobard, hiding in the stacks of the bookstore, summoned his phone from his pocket, he didn’t feel a thing.

Eobard already knew Snart’s number, so the rest was easy.

_Hey, Len! I got your number from a mutual friend. I hope that’s okay. Can you come a bit later, half an hour _after_ closing? I’m really looking forward to it. -Barry_

He waited for the response—_Sure. It’s a date. ;-)_—and then deleted the messages and put the phone back in Barry’s pocket.

Looking around at the bustling shop, Eobard grinned to think that this place would lay the perfect scene for what he had planned.

XXXXX

They had a date. Well, a date to _make_ a date, which was basically a date.

Len couldn’t believe things had turned out so well, even if he did have an extra case to work on before getting to his paperwork. He’d still leave the precinct in time to meet Barry. He could always finish the rest of his work tomorrow.

He wondered what mutual friend had given Barry his number. Could have been another officer who frequented the shop, or maybe Constantine. After that mortifying display with the portal-hack, Len had been ready to throttle his friend, but if he’d helped set this up, he already forgave him.

_Not funny_, he’d texted him from the car anyway. _You’re lucky you didn’t sabotage me._

_Things go that well with Tight Tushie?_

_They might. _

Another flurry of eggplant and heart emojis had filled Len’s phone, but at least this time they didn’t float into the air.

Arriving at the precinct, Len focused on the good, that he and Barry were finally happening, and he’d discovered something new.

Barry was a Dud. Len had needed a moment to process that—he’d never known a Dud before—but the more he thought about it, the better it seemed. There was no conflict of interest. Barry would never be nervous about Len being a mage hunter, because he wasn’t a mage. This was better than Len could have hoped!

If anyone knew what it was like to be one of a kind, estranged and often alone, it was 4s and 0s.

Len was the only Level 4 at his precinct even. Other than the Captain, but Rory didn’t go out into the field anymore, not since an explosive confrontation with a Rage demon ended in three-quarters of his body getting burned. The scar tissue, being magic-made, caused him great pain any time he used a spell now.

The other mage hunters, all Level 3s, were friendly but most didn’t want to be partnered with a 4. The stigma was that bigger, badder, deadlier cases always gravitated toward them, like Len was a bad luck charm.

Only a couple of them Len considered _friends_—Rory being one of them. Neither of the two Level 3s he was chummiest with was in on a Saturday, but he glanced at their desks on his way through anyway.

Mona, a self-proclaimed druid, was too bubbly for long stretches and always had a cause to champion, like a Disney princess, only her horde of critters were wayward fae and spirits.

Similarly, Felicity was a talker. Len didn’t think he could handle her on stakeouts, even though her specialty was Wave magic, combining spells with technology, which could really come in handy.

They both had partners of their own but switched up on occasion, sometimes even working together, but the few times they’d asked for Len’s help, it had felt like a chore. 

He just wanted someone who got him, who backed him up, did their job, and then fucked off when he wanted to be alone.

That’s why he wanted Constantine, but he didn’t see that happening.

Slumping down at his desk, Len stared at his mound of paperwork, but first, he had a few leads to follow up on after the message that had pulled him from Barry.

Eobard Thawne was on the loose again. Len hated that guy being out of custody for too long. He was the worst, absolutely bonkers and remorseless. The experiments he’d done to prove power levels could be increased included basically feeding people to demons to borrow their abilities. Len looked forward to when he could lock that rogue up for good.

In the meantime, he smiled as he took a bite of what remained of his scone and sipped on his mocha, thinking that once he finished for the night, he had something wonderful to look forward to.

XXXXX

“Sorry, Barry, we gotta go,” Cisco said with the most pitying expression.

Barry hated it.

He hated the clock on the wall more.

It was fifteen minutes _after_ closing, and Len still hadn’t shown up.

“It’s okay. Something probably came up, and he’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, grabbing his coat and trying to put on a brave face. “He is a mage hunter.”

“That's why I don’t like him,” Frost said, tapping her foot impatiently by the door. She tended to come out more often after dark.

“You don't mean that. Len's great. He's never once given you a hard time.”

“When he's here, I don't think he gives anyone anything other than you,” Cisco said.

“I don't know about that…”

Barry was thankful his friends had waited with him, but he wasn't so sure he believed in that optimism anymore. He wanted to believe, but Len's absence stung.

“If you like him so much, next time I’ll freeze him to the stool so he can’t get away.”

“Thanks, Frost, but I’m pretty sure that would get you into trouble no matter how nice Len is. I’ll be okay.”

They exited out the back with Barry locking up. Maybe Len _would_ show up tomorrow with a good excuse. Or maybe he was just being nice, like Barry had feared, and he didn’t want a Dud, after all.

XXXXX

Eobard watched the trio leave with a creeping grin. He waited an appropriate amount of time for them to head down the street, and then approached the backdoor.

Just simple locks, no wards or security spells. Barry might be a Dud, but it was foolish to not have his friends make up for his shortcomings.

With a simple lock pick spell, Eobard was in, and he knew exactly where he was going to draw the summoning circle.

_Your offering better be worth it, _a deep resonating voice echoed in Eobard's mind. _I grow impatient. _

Eobard stifled the tremors that threatened to tear through him. He'd never encountered a demon this powerful before, calling to him from the Veil even now without a conduit ready, but that only made him more certain that humans could grow in power too.

“He'll be worth it. Just promise you won't hold back until he’s yours.”

_ Oh, believe me, I won't stop until I'm satisfied. _

XXXXX

Len didn’t want to be early, but he also couldn’t stand the thought of being late, so he timed his arrival to be exactly on the nose, maybe one minute past the half hour mark to not seem too overeager, even though he was.

He figured he’d make a big show of asking Barry out, but for _now_, to go get a drink, maybe a late dinner, and see where the night took them.

Though no, Len didn’t want things to end in sex. Not tonight. He always did that, and it always ruined everything. For once, he wanted to take his time with someone and woo Barry right.

Len knocked first when he went up to the doors. The windows of the shop were scarlet-tinted with playful glass etchings that made the corner store look like a model from a Christmas miniature set. Most of the lights appeared to be off, but Len could tell that at least one light was still on, like a beacon to let him know he was welcome.

He tried the door, and when it proved to be unlocked, he stepped inside.

“Scarlet? I promise no portal-hacks or police business will interrupt this time.”

No response came.

Len frowned, stepping further into the shop. Maybe Barry was in the back, still working. It was just a little eerie, seeing the place at night. The quiet and glow of only a single light made the hair on the back of Len’s neck tingle, as if something was…off.

It had to be because he was so used to sifting through multiple auras of shoppers and children, and right now the place was empty, but there did seem to be something else.

Like power, drawing Len toward the light.

The dim illumination was right over the spot where Barry had read for Children’s Corner, making the red tiles stand out even more at the center of the open circle left from where the children had gathered, though Barry’s tiny stool was set aside. The emptiness made the space look like one giant eye staring at Len, or a fireball about to swallow him.

“Barry?” He used his real name this time, even as his feet continued forward as if pulled by a persistent string. Maybe Barry was trying to set a mood, be playful, coax Len to sit in that circle so he could read to _him_.

The thought made Len smile, and as all doubt flew from his mind, he crossed smoothly beyond the perimeter into the center of the tiles.

Light blinded Len as it shot up from the floor, followed by stinging chains of energy that snapped around his limbs, wrapping tight and trying to pull him to his knees.

Every defensive spell Len knew sprang to mind, no words needed, just his will to think them—but nothing happened. He just kept being pulled _down_.

He cried out as the chains seared his skin, bright sparking blue wrapping tighter, but they weren’t bringing him to his knees, he realized. He was being positioned to lie flat on his back, spread-eagle across the circle that he now saw wasn’t merely empty red tiles but a thickly painted demon trap.

Why hadn’t he sensed the illusion hiding it?

Then he realized—he _had_. He just hadn’t paid attention while thinking of Barry.

What had this creature done to Barry?!

_Mmm_, a foreign voice rumbled in Len’s mind, _and who is this little fly that’s caught in my web?_

Pain shot through Len’s body as if touching every never-ending directly, followed by a violating pulse of pleasure that instantly told him what he was dealing with.

A Desire demon.

Len had dealt with them before, many times, even been caught in a trap just like this, but he'd never encountered anything so strong. Not having use of his hands didn’t usually stop him, but no matter how much will he tried to press against this demon, he couldn’t move even half an inch or call on any spells. He was at its mercy, helpless for it to devour his soul and take over his body.

With Len as its vessel, it would be even more powerful and could wreak havoc on the entire city.

_Let’s focus on one thing at a time, shall we?_

Len could feel it invading him like smoke seeping into his pours, entering every crevice it could find until he felt like he might burst, and then another wave of pain/pleasure tore through him.

_I’m going to feed from you slowly, mage hunter, before I claim your body to walk the earth. _

“And I’m going to enjoy watching,” another voice said, spoken and familiar.

“Th-thawne,” Len gasped.

The chains were wrapped around his torso and neck now, but he could see Thawne standing at the edge of the circle now, blond, average height and build, an unimpressive man at a glance, but thriving in his smugness.

“What have you summoned?! This thing—” Len cut off with a choke as the chains around his neck tightened.

_Quiet now, _the demon said. _This is between us. Thawne is going to leave. _

“What?” Thawne snapped in anger.

Len felt as though chains of smoke crawled down his throat like tendrils, and his vision took on a blue haze. “Leave us,” the demon spoke with his mouth, completely in control of him. “He’s mine now. You’ll get what you asked for.”

“You swear it?”

“A deal's a deal. When I’m done, this body will never harm you again.”

Len gasped once more, coughing and spitting as his vision and throat cleared.

When the demon was done… he'd never regain control.

“I guess this is goodbye then, Snart. Have fun burning from the inside out,” Thawne taunted, and Len watched him fade from eyeline just as heat coursed through him like an answer.

It wasn't fair that this could hurt so badly and feel _good_ in the same instance, making Len’s gut grow hot while tears filled his eyes. It was the combination of pain and pleasure that fed the demon, like a goddamn cenobite from _Hellraiser_.

_Cenobite_, the demon chuckled. _I like that__. _

“F-fuck off,” Len grunted.

Again, the demon laughed.

Len could feel a cool breeze strike his skin, which was a relief to the oppressive heat inside him, until he realized how _much_ of his skin he could feel it on.

Struggling to look down his body, he saw his clothes melting away like burnt up bits of paper. The chains tightened into his skin. Some were rubbing against his cock now, stirring it to harden, and his stomach lurched to admit how wrong/right it felt.

_That’s it. I’ll make it a nice end for you as a reward for tasting so sweet. _

Len had to beat this thing, he had to try, somehow, any way he could, but normally, the only way to separate a demon from consuming a soul was by feeding it energy from another source and forcing it back through the Veil. Without being able to cast any spells, Len had nothing to offer but what it was already taking.

He was going to die here.

He was just glad Barry didn't seem to have been around when Thawne arrived and wouldn’t return until morning. However this turned out, it would be over by then.

XXXXX

Barry was such an idiot. He’d been so distracted thinking about Len standing him up, he’d forgotten to take the cash bag out of the safe.

He always dropped the cash off at the bank on his way home, every day like clockwork, yet he’d forgotten like a lovesick fool. Not that there were ever any break-ins in his neighborhood, being so close to a police station.

Hurrying in quickly through the back door, he just needed to gather the cash from the registers, grab the bag from the safe, and make sure he left enough basic change behind for tomorrow. Ten minutes tops.

But as soon as he closed the door, he heard the strangest noises coming from the front of the shop, like someone struggling.

Someone _had_ broken in! Only it sounded like they were in pain.

Barry hastily looked around for a baseball bat he could use as a weapon, which of course there wasn’t anything like that—this was a bookshop! But there was a broom.

Inching carefully out of the back toward the noises, broom raised to swing at any unsavory characters rummaging through his shop—high on something, or having tripped over bookcases or whatever it was causing them to groan like that—Barry held his tongue, hoping to sneak up on them and—

“Holy shit…” he gasped, dropping the broom in a clatter.

It was _Len_, sprawled out naked in the middle of Children’s Corner, tethered by glowing, translucent chains to an upside-down pentagram with menacing other symbols drawn into the circle in what looked like dark, black _blood_.

“Len!” Barry made a mad dash toward him when he saw the strain in his brow and how much pain he was in.

“Stop!” Len cried. “Don’t cross the circle!”

Barry skidded to a stop just on the edge. “How else can I help you!?”

“It’s too strong…” Len cringed against the chains, flickers of blue lightning arching off them and across his body, “the demon…”

_Demon?!_

Of course. It was a demon circle. Barry could tell by the design.

“How…?” He backed up despite himself. “When—?”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t fight it… You have to get out of here.”

“I-I’ll get help!” Barry stammered. “I can call the police—”

“There isn’t time.” Len looked at him like he wanted nothing more than to be standing in front of him instead of chained to the floor. “The Desire demon has a hold of me, and my powers aren't enough.”

Staring on in horror, unable to do anything when Len was right there in front of him, Barry had never felt so useless as a Dud. Though if even Len couldn’t fight this thing, maybe nothing could.

“There has to be something we can do, something we can feed it, so it doesn’t drain you.”

All at once, Barry noticed the flush to Len’s face as he was wrapped up in intricate patterns with the chains like rope—his labored breathing, pupils blown, how _hard_ he was as he lay there naked.

“_Desire_ demon!” Barry shouted in realization and threw himself into the circle.

“Barry!”

Barry would have blushed to finally recognize the state Len was in—and what he planned to do about it—but this was life or death. He waited to feel the same wrench of pain/pleasure that Len was in, but when nothing happened, he dropped down onto Len’s hips to straddle him and took off his jacket, throwing it out of the circle.

“What are you doing?!”

“This is what it wants,” Barry said, ignoring the fear gripping his chest as he started to undo his shirt. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

The twist of indecision that splayed across Len’s face said he couldn’t. He knew just as well as Barry what a Desire demon fed from.

Barry tossed his shirt out of the circle too.

“You can’t,” Len croaked. “We don’t know if it’ll be enough. It could kill you too. You don’t have any magic to protect you!”

“It doesn’t matter. If there’s a chance, I have to take it.”

In that same breath, the chains unwound from Len and vanished.

They stared. Len could move, but only slightly. The demon was urging them on.

“I can’t let you do this…” Len said. “I can hear it. It _wants_ you, finds you fascinating because it can’t sense any magic. You can’t—”

“Len,” Barry cut him off gently, reaching to place both hands on Len’s face. “If it feeds enough, the circle might lose its power, and you’ll be free. Please.”

Len tried to move his hands to place over Barry’s, but the circle hadn’t released him enough to allow that, so he rested them on Barry’s hips instead, looking up at him like he was something delicate and precious.

“I’d hoped we’d get dinner first,” Barry chuckled nervously, “or even just coffee without me being the one to make it, but if this ends up saving your life, it’s not going to be something I’ll regret.”

He moved Len’s hands from his waist to rest on the flat of his stomach, so he could undo his slacks, still the black ones he’d worn with his vampire costume.

Len pressed his palms more firmly to Barry’s stomach, panting from whatever he was feeling from the demon, his cock twitching against his stomach right in front of where Barry sat.

Barry had never seen Len bare before, not even in short sleeves, and now that he was literally on top of him, he could appreciate the view.

Like most mage hunters, Len’s skin was a tapestry of color, every inch of his chest and arms tattooed in runes and beautiful imagery. Largest of all, beneath his sternum, was a Pentagram of Power, with each section for the points depicting a different, familiar figure.

The top was a stylized Alpha and Omega inside a sunburst to honor the unknown Creator of all.

Top left was da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man to symbolize humans.

Top right was a feminine apparition for spirits, often called Sofia or Wisdom, though not all spirits were wise or kind.

Bottom left was Titania for the fae.

Bottom right was a horned devil for demons.

And in the center was the earth, surrounded by a glowing outer sphere to represent the Veil.

It was beautiful, however chillingly real in that moment as Barry had his first hands-on encounter with something _of_ the Veil outside of seeing spells done by others.

“I’ve thought about touching you for so long…” Len said, running his hands up Barry’s chest as if in a daze, and then cringing and looking away like he hadn’t meant to say that. 

“Me too,” Barry assured him, glad at least that Len not showing up earlier hadn’t meant what he'd feared.

He lifted to take off his pants and pulled his underwear down with them.

XXXXX

A rush of burning heat raged through Len’s chest and loins and all the way into his toes and fingertips.

The demon wanted this.

It _liked_ it.

_What an interesting creature…_ its voice resounded in Len’s mind. _And how much better you taste with your desire for him. Yes…_

Len gasped at the first feeling of Barry’s bare cock touching his as he resettled naked on Len’s lap. The pain was fading, leaving behind only pleasure and making it impossible to resist what was happening.

“It’s making me want this…” He dropped his hands to Barry’s hips again and smoothed down his thighs. He was even more beautiful naked than Len had imagined, with more of those lovely freckles making surprising appearances.

“You don’t really want me,” Barry said sadly, shrinking in on himself.

“I do! Oh Barry, believe me, I want you, I just don’t know how much I can control myself or the demon.”

_You can’t. But your pleasure tastes better than your pain._

Len wished he could shake the voice from his mind. He knew Barry, as a Dud, couldn’t hear it.

“It’s okay,” Barry said, quickly growing hard alongside Len, as he pressed his hips forward and bent closer. “Let’s give the demon what it wants and enjoy this for our sake too.”

He kissed Len. He was _kissing_ him, tasting equally sweet and bitter like the coffee he made as his tongue tangled with Len’s. His skin felt so wonderfully cool too sliding against him, but Len wanted to embrace Barry, to be able to lift his arms completely and hold him.

He wanted to convey how much all this would have meant to him if it was just them, but the cruel reminder that they weren’t alone came when smoke filled his throat again and his vision went blue. 

“I’m going to open you up and rut inside you until you scream,” the demon spoke through him.

Barry flushed bright red, eyes widening in fear as he lifted up, but he didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” Len said when his vision cleared. His voice came out with an overlap of the demon’s when it controlled him like that, so at least Barry knew it wasn’t only him. “We don’t have any… There’s nothing we can use to…”

“Oh… uhh…”

“Turn around and bring that pretty hole here,” the demon spoke again, making Len lick his lips.

When the blue haze faded once more, Barry asked him, “Is that okay?”

Len nodded. If the circumstances had been different, he would have been elated. He finally had Barry, but it was tainted, even if it did feel amazing with the pain fading to a distant thrum.

Barry shifted on top of him so that their chests connected, and his tight ass descended slowly toward Len's face. Len couldn’t lift his hands high enough to spread Barry’s cheeks, but it was still easy to lick his way to his hole.

Barry shuddered.

“Suck me, boy,” the demon took over again. “I want to feel your tongue on this flesh.” It licked more boldly, pressing the tip of Len’s tongue inside.

Len felt Barry’s hands shakily seek out the base of his cock.

“Fuck, Barry… I hope you can forgive me if we survive this.” Len darted his tongue inside again, starting a slow, wet rhythm. 

“N-nothing to forgive. That feels so good… and I want to get your cock wet. It’s already pretty wet…” he ran his fingers through the precum, “but I guess that’s because of the demon.”

“And you. It’s you too…”

Gripping Len more boldly, Barry sucked his cock down his throat at the praise with much better heat than anything from the demon.

_Careful. You’ll make me jealous_, the demon chuckled.

Again, Len tried to shake the voice away and focus on the feeling of Barry, on preparing him, but he could only go so deep with his tongue and getting him wet wasn’t good enough to stretch him.

Len’s right hand suddenly had no strain on it. He could lift it higher, only that one, but he took the demon’s gift and parted Barry’s cheeks with it, accompanying his tongue with the press of a finger.

Barry grunted, sucking Len’s cock with more gusto. All the good that came from the demon, with barely any of the bad, was mixing with the sensations of Barry—his tongue and hands and the weight on Len’s chest as he stretched him open.

Even so, Len felt the demon growing irritated, eager to move forward, Barry’s mouth on him not being enough to satisfy its hunger.

“Flip. Now,” it ordered, swatting Barry on the ass with Len's hand.

Barry gave Len a parting lick before pulling off and turning around.

“I don’t know if it was enough,” Len said.

“I'll be okay. I'm not exactly new at this.” He paled, nearly falling forward as he fumbled, “N-not that I get passed around at parties, _geez_. I just have a lot of sex toys!” Then his cheeks went scarlet. “That's just as bad. I-I haven't had many partners, nothing recent, so I get really horny sometimes, and…” His entire face was darkening, growing up into his hairline. “I'll stop.”

Len smiled, genuine and wide, forgetting for one blessed moment that they weren’t just in a bed somewhere, experiencing this as they should be. “You are adorable.”

“Really?” Barry grinned bashfully.

Len answered by dragging him down into a fierce kiss.

In the throes of it, wet and desperate, he felt Barry’s hand reach back and begin to lower himself onto Len’s cock.

XXXXX

It shouldn’t be this easy. Even with Barry’s frequent use of toys, the wet press of Len’s tongue and meager stretching shouldn’t have been enough, but there was only pressure and heat, as Len began to fill him, no pain.

Barry hadn’t had a partner in ages, and he hadn’t wanted anyone but Len since he first saw him saunter up to the café counter for a mocha. Now, he had him. He just hadn’t expected to be sitting on Len’s cock for the first time in a demon circle in the middle of the shop.

Oh, but Len felt so good and warm and tingly inside him.

_Tingly_ was new without certain lubes. That and the nearly searing heat had to be from the demon.

When it took over, he’d see the occasional flash of it like a hologram superimposed over Len. It wasn’t scary so much as otherworldly and powerful looking. Its skin was so smooth, it almost seemed metallic more than flesh, with a silvery sheen and glowing blue eyes and cracks of energy throughout its body.

Barry tried to ignore it. Fascinated as he was, he only wanted to think of Len as they connected deep—all the way to the hilt—and he started to rock.

This was just him and Len. Just _him and Len_.

And the devil makes three.

Something shot up from between Barry’s legs into his chest like an electric shock.

He gasped. That was…incredible.

“Barry?” Len prompted, even as he gripped Barry’s hips harder.

Barry pressed down harder too, rolling his hips now to bring Len as deep inside of him as possible. “I-I’m good. So good. Don’t stop. It’s just us. Just us…”

_Do you really believe that?_

Barry jerked his head up to look around, as a tremor of terror prickled his spine. No one was there, but he’d definitely heard the demon and not from Len’s mouth this time.

_You’re so empty. No magic, nothing to reflect or call upon. Let me fill you, as your sweet Len is filling you. _

That wasn’t a good idea. He should tell Len—

Barry’s mouth dropped open in a sudden moan, as another jolt shot up his body. It all felt so good. But he should tell Len he was hearing the demon, shouldn’t he? Duds weren’t supposed to be able to hear them.

_Don’t worry him. Just enjoy yourself, Barry._

Another shock tore through him, followed by heat, and the most intense sensation like the edge of orgasm over and over flowering up from his stomach, even though he knew he wasn’t close yet.

That’s when he realized the voice didn’t sound like the demon the way it echoed with Len’s.

It sounded like _him_.

Bursts of blue light started to spark all around Barry.

And Len.

And the circle.

Barry saw them, hips wildly moving now, stretched open and so wet as his balls slapped down on Len’s stomach with every thrust, his cock bobbing, swollen and red.

If the sparks seemed an odd occurrence to Len, that didn’t stop him. He dug his fingers into Barry’s hips with one hand and licked a wet stripe up the other. Then he grasped Barry's cock.

Everything was hot and at the brink of being too much, so sensitive and difficult to explain, like nothing Barry had ever experienced, like he was floating above his body more than in it but still feeling every slide of Len inside him and stroke of his fingers.

Now, he was close, but he felt like he’d already come a dozen times. There were goosebumps along his skin as if he was cold even though he was sweltering inside.

He wanted Len to come. He wanted Len to come inside him. He wanted to _feel_ it.

He said so in a blathering rush, and Len moaned as he slammed upward, finishing on command at the frantic plea of Barry’s words.

Somehow that felt as if Barry came too, even though it was ten, fifteen, twenty seconds later that he followed, feeling a tremble work all throughout his body like a convulsion. He nearly collapsed forward, holding himself up with the press of his hands to Len’s stomach.

One palm splayed over the Vitruvian Man and the other on the devil.

Then all Barry—Barry, _Barry_—could do was laugh as the sparks around them began to glow red.

XXXXX

Len was seeing stars. Or maybe that was the sparks, red now and fritzing out in the aftermath.

He was free. He could feel it, no longer held to the circle beneath him or feeling like he was burning up from the inside. There had come a great relief in his release, and not only because of the truly finest orgasm he’d ever had, nestled between Barry’s thighs, but because the demon had been satisfied too and must have been banished back to the Veil.

It worked.

“Amazing…” Barry mumbled, lying on Len’s chest with a nuzzle of his cheek. “Not how I imagined it, but you are everything I wanted you to be.”

“Not how I imagined it either… but right back at you.” Len was pleased he could wrap Barry in his arms finally, no tension or power pulling at him. Barry’s weight felt good and all his lovely heat, still so very warm as Len pulsed inside him.

He should pull out now. They had to clean up, and Len had to be sure Barry was okay, that things between them were okay, before he hunted down Thawne to make him pay for putting them in this position, incredible though it may have been.

“Are you good?” Len asked, stroking Barry’s back.

“Mmm…wonderful.” He wriggled to loosen Len’s hold, and Len obeyed, letting Barry sit up. He wore a strange, leering grin, as he said, “I feel like a brand-new man,” and opened his eyes to reveal _red_.

“Barry!”

Len’s arms suctioned back to the symbols beneath him, stretching him wider than before, painfully, as he got his first look at the demon, an afterimage over Barry of an imposing silvery beast with glowing red eyes and red crackles of energy all throughout it just like those sparks.

“No… Barry!?” 

“Not anymore,” it whispered, licking his lips and clenching down on Len still inside him.

Len whined breathlessly. It was too tight, too hot, but still so _good_, and that made his stomach twist in revulsion. “You burnt him away…” he sobbed, realizing what must have happened. He never thought the demon could latch onto Barry when there was no magic inside him to feed on. The demon must have consumed him instantly.

“Not yet,” Not-Barry said, drawing Len’s eyes back to his glowing red ones, slit and haunting. “He’s still here, but it's my turn to play with you.”

He clenched down around Len once more before sliding off, which surprised Len given the continued leering, until he realized how much less he could move than before. Only Not-Barry could move him and got off to lift his hips from the circle.

Len formed a pleading ‘No’ but couldn’t say it, because Not-Barry swirled a finger through their combined mess and reached between his legs to his puckered skin.

He sobbed again, because it felt unnaturally good, so much more intense than what they’d shared already, and it was only a finger—slowly, deeply penetrating him and starting to thrust as it stretched him.

“P-pl…s-st-t-t…”

“Are you trying to say... ‘stop’?” Not-Barry asked with a purr. “I don’t like unwillingly partners.”

_Bullshit. _

“J-just unwilling… _hosts_?” Len bit out, but then moaned as a slick, second finger pressed inside with the first. His arms ached with how much they extended to keep him in place, but those fingers carried an intense pleasure that made him angry and sick with how much he wanted them to keep going.

His cocked bobbed in anticipation for more, already reawakened.

“So entertaining…” Not-Barry said, his free hand petting Len’s face and neck. “Go on, tell me to stop if that’s what you want?”

_Fucking_ Desire demon. It was playing so dirty, because its powers were beyond Len’s, and he couldn’t resist. It felt too good, just those damn twisting, scissoring fingers, that he was sure he’d go mad if he didn’t come again.

“That’s what I thought. I was promised your body, but you passed the honor to Barry. Now I can have your body in other ways, and his is quite pleasing.”

“Let me talk to him.”

“I said it’s _my_ turn,” the demon hissed.

“And I said… _let me talk to him_. If you want me willing.”

All movement stopped, the red eyes glaring, but then they blinked, and it was Barry again, green-eyed and lost looking. “Len? This feels so strange. I’m in control, but… not.”

“I’m so sorry, Barry. I didn't know this was possible. This demon is different. It's so strong.”

“Thank you.” The red eyes flashed back for a moment, but then faded. “Oh Len,” Barry moaned, thrusting still with his fingers as insistently as the demon had, “I want to fuck you so bad, it's all I can think about.”

Len wanted that too. He couldn’t not with the demon’s power between them. “Maybe that'll pass it back to me.”

“Afraid not,” the demon returned, seamless aside from the firmer twist of his thrusts. “This is my vessel now. The pact is complete. Soon, it will be mine alone. And I am not some ‘it’. Once, someone mistook me for a god and dubbed me… Savitar.” He grinned. “That suits me fine. I may as well be a god.”

“What about Barry?” Len demanded.

“What does he call himself? A _Dud_?”

“What will happen to him?”

“He will have all my power at his disposal until there is nothing left of him but dust.”

Len wanted to sob, outright and awful. This was all because of him. He finally had Barry, and he had doomed him.

“It’s so amazing,” Barry blinked back to control. “The magic. For the first time, Len, I can _feel_ it.”

“It’s going to kill you,” Len said brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.” Barry looked at him, slowing the curl of his fingers, and smiled. “I got to save you.”

He stopped his hand then, pulling it gently free, and leaned down to kiss Len.

“And now I’m going to fuck you,” Savitar finished, eyes blazing as he pulled up, roughly parted Len’s legs, and slammed home with one hard thrust.

Stars danced in Len’s vision again like those fizzled out sparks, but the pain he expected never came. The slams of Barry’s cock were sharp and deep and faster by the second, lifting half of Len’s body from the floor, while his arms remained pinned. It was so intense, he could barely breathe, shooting what had to be pure, undiluted magic straight from the Veil into his body. 

It should have been overwhelming, but it just made him want more.

Above him, sometimes the eyes would be Barry’s, his smile soft and wanton, and sometimes they were Savitar’s, expression twisted and terrifying, made all the stranger by the occasional flicker of the demon’s true form, large and silver and glowing.

Whenever Len saw him like that, he’d swear the cock in him felt larger too, and he’d moan haggardly at the extra stretch.

“Yes… this is a much better bargain. I’ll have to thank Thawne.”

Len was going to _kill_ Thawne. 

But he came with a wrecked cry, thoroughly spent and rawed out, and Barry was right there with him. The red eyes flashed, and then they were green again—just Barry, looking adoringly down at him.

“I’ll figure this out,” Len swore. “I’ll find a way to save you too.”

“No, you won’t.” The red eyes returned as Savitar lifted off him. “It’s only a matter of time. There’s nothing to anchor myself to this body without magic, but I will have him. The more he uses my power, and he will, the more I’ll latch on to the very makeup of his being. When my eyes and power are once again my native blue, you’ll know there is nothing of _Barry_ left.”

As he finished rising, a pulse of power released Len from the floor—which no longer had any symbols on it, no circle or telling stains, and Len and Barry were both clothed.

Barry looked around with a startled huff, smiling awkwardly, and then reached down to help Len stand. “Well…” he scratched the back of his head with a bashful blush, “I know we have a lot to talk about, but, um… do you want to go get that dinner now?”

TBC...

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you'd be interested in more. ^_^


End file.
